


Much Ado about a Hat

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Coping, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gifts, Loss, M/M, Omnic Racism, Omnic Rights, Omnics, Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-01-31 07:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12677400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *McCree/Zenyatta* due to an unfortunate situation, Jesse loses his hat.





	Much Ado about a Hat

**Author's Note:**

> my first mcyatta! i'd been thinking about writing one for a while, but never did get down to it until now. :) im satisfied and pretty happy aaaaa

**Much Ado about a Hat**

 

The mission had been simple.

It wasn’t anything difficult –reconnaissance, mostly, gathering information, acquiring connections that could be useful at a later date. Winston had asked both Zenyatta and Jesse to go.

Zenyatta did not mind –in fact, he’d always thought he was good at interacting with people, and similarly Jesse had a friendly disposition that made it easy for others to like him and open up. They were the best options for the mission, and neither had any problem working with the other, though this would be the first time they’d had a long term mission on their own without any of the others tagging along.

Before, Zenyatta had done most of his missions with Genji or in bigger groups, usually doing background support, so this would be the first mission he took on his own since joining OverWatch five months earlier.

At first, Zenyatta had been hesitant to be part of such organization –he was an outsider, and his only connection to them was Genji, not to mention… he was an omnic. Many of the other agents had actively fought omnics during the war, or had reasons to dislike or distrust his kind, and Zenyatta did not want to cause trouble among them with his presence, though he wanted to be of use, and ultimately he’d reasoned that his skill set could find purpose with OverWatch, and he had no intention to abandon Genji on his own either.

Still, he had not known if he would be welcomed among them or not, and had decided to gamble on it, hoping to find his place with them.

Thankfully his fears had been soothed quickly enough; both Winston and Lena –codename: Tracer– had welcomed him with open arms, even if he’d simply tagged along Genji and they knew nothing about him nor what he could do for them.

Soon after that, other members had trickled in –Angela, at first only through video calls, and then Mei, and Hana, and Jesse… and none of them had treated Zenyatta as anything less than one of them.

Of the other members of the reformed OverWatch, one who had been more than happy to chat and interact with Zenyatta since the start had been, in fact, Jesse. He was cheerful, openly friendly and always up to talk, though Zenyatta had felt lingering traces of Discord around him on some days, trickling after him like wisps of smoke, thick and heavy.

Jesse was a good company, and had a lot of random knowledge that made any conversation with him fascinating, and Zenyatta did enjoy spending time with him, whenever it happened.

This was why he did not feel troubled by this mission alone with Jesse –the man was more than anything, determined to do his best, and while he could joke around and appear carefree outside of a mission, he was focused and sharp when needed, an attitude Zenyatta admired quite a bit.

As he’d expected, they _did_ work well together.

Zenyatta watched from afar as Jesse flirted and chatted openly with the people surrounding him, an ever growing crowd of amused, entertained faces, most of them lured in by his warm, rich laughter and the way he gesticulated while talking.

He was a charmer, a flirt, and many were flustered and wooed as he moved on, not a single one of them left feeling ignored.

Zenyatta admired his skill, as Jesse was the smoothest talker he had seen in a long while, and it was easy to lose track of time, watching him work. It was only when the people Zenyatta had been tasked to approach arrived that he shook himself out of his staring to move on and do his own magic, aware that as he walked by, Jesse’s eyes were on him, a flicker of amusement clear in them.

It made him wonder, as he approached person after person, creating bonds and seeking out understanding with each of them, if Jesse was perhaps also watching him, and he had to stop that thought from forming, suddenly self-conscious, and focus instead on his job.

By the end of the week, both had collected enough information between the two of them to fill many folders, and had a list of connections that could be used in the future, if they ever needed it.

What neither had expected, though, was the scorned, delusional man Jesse had snubbed on the third night to return, angry and annoyed, only to find Jesse and Zenyatta walking side by side as they made their way to the local train station.

It was not quite evening, but the lampposts were already lit, the shadows growing longer as the sky tinged orange, and Zenyatta had been admiring the view of the city from the bridge, the water underneath glistening with the stray rays of sun.

The man wobbled towards them, ignoring Zenyatta completely to address Jesse with scathing words, and though Jesse tried to defuse the situation, the man lashed out at him, angry and offended, and when Zenyatta hovered closer, hoping to mediate between them, the man turned to him, a look of disgust on his face, and then called Jesse an ‘omnic fucker’.

Where before Jesse had taken the insults and scathing words with an admirable even face, the moment Zenyatta was involved he changed his tune. He stepped forwards, frowning, shoulders squared and hands clenched into fists, teeth clenched around his cigar, and then– the man attacked him.

The scuffle lasted a grand total of three seconds –just long enough for Jesse to flip the man around and push him against a wall, arm twisted behind his back to make him helpless– but during that short time, Jesse’s hat slipped off his head, and before any of them could do anything about it, it fluttered off the edge of the bridge.

Zenyatta was close to the railing and watched it tumble down for what felt like forever, until it landed with a soft sound into the water, a good five feet below them.

“I’m sorry, Jesse…” Zenyatta turned around, and his words faded into silence at the stricken look on Jesse’s face.

It was quick to disappear, but it _had_ been there –shock, and raw pain, enough that his cigar fell from his lips and onto the ground, forgotten. A mask of indifference, painful in how thick it was, replaced it, and Jesse twisted the attacker around until he had him against the wall, the hand holding his wrists tight enough his knuckles went white.

“Now scram,” he hissed, the tone low enough to sound dangerous, full of deathly promises. “You _really_ don’t wanna see me angry now.”

The man swallowed down whatever he meant to say and ran for it, not even turning around as he slipped and disappeared behind a corner, but Zenyatta’s attention never wavered from Jesse, feeling an intense wave of discord, thick and heavy, curl around Jesse’s shoulders. It was bad enough that he wanted to back away, his fans spinning loudly, but he did not move.

Instead, Zenyatta moved closer, just an inch, one hand lifted in askance. “Jesse…”

Despite the grieving aura that spoke of Jesse’s inner turmoil, his face betrayed nothing. Jesse swallowed once, avoiding to look at the edge of the bridge, and instead turned to stare at Zenyatta, lips curled up in a small, empty smirk. “Nah, that little shithead didn’t bother me. I hope–” he hesitated, then shook his head. “I didn’t mind bein’ called an omnic fucker, it was no insult. But I’m sorry you got pulled into that bullshit. Ya ok?”

Zenyatta sighed quietly, his fans slowing down as his servos shifted a little. He lowered his arm. “That was no bother, he was obviously focused on you and barely even addressed me. You disposed of him very efficiently.”

“Ya, I’m the best at diffusing the situation before it can get worse. Believe me, it _can_.”

Zenyatta hesitated for a second, wishing to address the obvious problem, Jesse’s emotions cloudy beneath his casual appearance, the discord still stormy, so thick it was almost painful, then… he relented. It was clear Jesse did not wish to talk about it, or did not trust Zenyatta enough to share with him his troubles, and Zenyatta had to respect that.

“I can see why. You have collected quite the number of… admirers, this week,” he chose to say instead, tilting his head to the side, keeping his voice light and teasing.

It had the desired effect –it startled a small, surprised laugh out of Jesse, more natural than his tense, empty smirk from before.

“Oh, you noticed?” he waggled his eyebrows, the wrinkles around his eyes softened slightly. “You have rounded up your own circle of admirers yourself, I say.”

“I feel what your admirers wish to obtain might be rather different than what my acquaintances expect from me, actually,” Zenyatta chuckled,  hands pressed together in front of him.

Jesse started to walk, stride steady and purposeful as he left behind the bridge, and Zenyatta floated behind him until they were once again side by side.

A beat of silence, followed by a soft, wondering hum. “I’d wager you might be mistaken there, but that’s just me. Maybe you didn’t notice the way some of ‘em were looking at ya, but it was… hard to miss, in my opinion.”

Zenyatta faltered, hovering an inch lower than usual, surprise making his forehead array blink unsteadily.

“I…” the thought caught him unaware, enough that he was left wrong footed. “I fear I did not notice.”

Jesse’s laughter was pleasing, even as it was clear his amusement was at Zenyatta’s expense, but at least it did not sound mocking. “Yeah, figured that.” A few seconds, and then “not that I’d see you taking advantage even if you had, don’t get me wrong.”

Zenyatta hummed quietly, the fans on his shoulders whirring just loud enough to be noticeable. “Well, now. I am not quite as opposed to engaging in pleasant dances as you might think I am, Jesse… but I would not do that while on a mission, that is for certain.”

His words caused Jesse to choke on his spit, the cigar he’d just lit up slipping out of his grasp only to fall on the ground, following the fate of his previous one. Jesse followed it down with a soft, heartfelt curse, and Zenyatta found himself laughing again, almost carefree, almost forgetting the aura of distress that was still so thick around Jesse’s shoulders.

Almost.

Yet, if he did not wish to talk, Zenyatta could do nothing else, except be there, just in case.

“Now then, why don’t you tell me about… some of those escapades of yours, Zenyatta? Consider me mighty interested.”

“Jesse!” with an exaggerated exclamation of shock, Zenyatta twisted his head to stare at him, forehead array flickering in play-pretend dismay. “An omnic such as I would never kiss… and tell.”

Again, Jesse laughed, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkling, one hand coming to hide his mouth, and Zenyatta hummed, pleased, watching the way Jesse laughed under the cold light of the lampposts, and his core made a soft, fluttery twitch inside his chest at the sight.

Like this, private and more open than he would ever show anyone else, Jesse’s true magnetism was truly visible, and Zenyatta was glad he could be there to witness it.

***

A week after Zenyatta and Jesse’s return to the Gibraltar base, Jesse somehow acquired another hat.

It had been weird, at first, to see him without one –it was a rare sight, though not exactly uncommon as there had been missions where he’d taken it off for long periods of time– but not exactly unexpected, and yet… for Zenyatta, who had been there to see him lose his hat, there was a bit more to the story than anyone else believed.

The replacement hat was newer, and… wrong, somehow. It was almost the same size, almost the same colour, with the same badge on the front, and yet… a few of Jesse’s mannerisms that had been so obvious before were absent, or conspicuously avoided.

He’d usually fidget with his hat, rub its edge or tilt it forwards on his forehead, or flip the brim when something particularly funny was said in his presence, or just take it off and play with it absently, but now… Zenyatta had caught him stop mid-motion, as if realising that the hat was not the same and it somehow took the fun out of him. The aborted motion seemed to make his mood worse, robbing him of something.

It was clear the knowledge that this was not just a temporary fix made Jesse too aware that this was _not_ his hat.

Zenyatta had no idea how to proceed.

Zenyatta had few personal possessions, but he understood all too well that losing something important could mess up with someone, and he would never judge anyone for that, no matter what the object was –and it was clear his old had had been such thing for Jesse, enough that its loss had impacted greatly on his mood.

He had been the only one present when the hat had been lost, but he was a new member of the organization, and as such he had no idea what the hat meant, or how it had come to be in Jesse’s possession, nor could he just ask _him_ when he so obviously did not wish to talk about it.

So, he did the second best thing –he went to speak with Genji.

Genji and Jesse had both been part of BlackWatch, and while Genji’s time with them had been filled with dread, anger and repressed hatred, he had still managed to befriend Jesse, at least in part. It was mostly due to Jesse’s unwavering determination to get through even the worst of Genji’s moods, and his thick-headedness in the face of Genji’s refusals.

It had been barely enough, and yet, enough so that while he was at the monastery, the two had attempted to reconnect through letters written to one another, a way for Genji to reconcile with his past and make amends to the ones who had tried to extend a hand to him during that period of his life.

If there was anyone who could know about Jesse’s hat, that would be Genji.

“His hat?” Genji’s voice sounded almost baffled underneath his visor, and he pushed it away from his face to better look at Zenyatta. “Ah… well, I did notice he’s got a new one, but… I don’t know about his old one, Master. He’s had it for as long as I can remember. Or… well, maybe that wasn’t the same hat, how would I know?”

“That is alright. So he never did mention to you anything about it?”

Genji shook his head. “He always seemed fond of his hat, but did not seem to mind if it got a bit roughed up during a spar, at least not back then. He never said anything about where he got it, not even in our correspondence. I never did think much about it, but… he does seem different, now. I did notice that, but I did not think to link that to his new headwear.”

“I was there when his old hat was lost, Genji, so I can tell you that I could feel…” Zenyatta trailed off, hesitating before sighing quietly, “so much Discord well up inside of him. I just wish to extend a hand and attempt to soothe some of it.”

“As always, Master.” Genji grinned at him, eyes full of fond amusement, and shook his head. “I’m sorry I cannot be of any help. He never told me about his hat. Perhaps that was a subject he could not trust to share with our shaky friendship, back then, and nowadays… it just never came up.”

“It is of no trouble. Is there anyone else who might know something? Angela, perhaps, or…”

Genji appeared troubled, almost hesitant. “No, I don’t think… no. Jesse and I… we were part of BlackWatch, and while Angela was responsible for my overall health, she was not part of it. Neither was Winston, though maybe there is something in Jesse’s dossier that might answer your questions. Otherwise no… I…” Genji’s shoulders stiffened, shifted lower a fraction of an inch. “There was someone who probably would know, but he…”

“I understand. Your commander, Gabriel Reyes, but he is unfortunately one with the Iris now.”

“I… yeah.” Genji rubbed the lower part of his mouth piece, shaking his head. “He and Jesse were close.”

Zenyatta sighed. He had hoped Genji would be able to answer his questions, but it seemed it was not to be so.

He did not wish to dig into Jesse’s personal files either –that was information that could be obtained by digging deep enough in OverWatch’s database, but Zenyatta did not wish to uncover parts of Jesse’s past without his consent, not even to be able to understand why he was so distraught about the loss of his hat.

If he could not ask him directly and hope for an answer, nor could he ask anyone close to him, then…

Then, Zenyatta would have to find another way to help.

***

It was not easy.

It was clear Jesse was attempting to come to terms with the loss of his hat, yet it just did not happen.

By the end of the second week, there was an air of defeat surrounding him, the casual ease from his earlier days only apparent whenever he did not focus too long on what he was missing, and even then it was fleeting.

Despite that, he still avoided answering whenever anyone attempted to address the obvious problem, brushing off even Angela when she has tried to give him a check-up, convinced he was coming down with something.

Zenyatta was pleased to see that all the other agents had noticed Jesse’s plummeting mood, and had attempted to cheer him up in their own unique, personal ways, though nothing seemed to help much, at least not long term.

Lucio did a few music jigs for him, tugging him into a small dancing competition, Hana challenged him with some of her most entertaining games, and Winston had him help cleaning some of the empty storage rooms, which only kept him busy for a day at most.

Fareeha tried to roughhouse with him, which resulted in happy, playful banter that lasted for a couple hours, but afterwards Jesse was still quieter than normal, downtrodden, and Fareeha was later found in the infirmary, murmuring softly under her breath with Angela, neither any closer to finding out what was wrong with him.

Zenyatta was in a unique position –other than Genji, he was the only one who knew why Jesse’s mood had fallen so quickly, but that did not really help, in the end, and divulging it with the others would infringe on Jesse’s privacy.

The hat was lost, probably by now rotting somewhere unsanitary, and no amount of searching for it would get it back to Jesse.

He had a new hat, but it was not the same. No hat would ever be the same, and yet…

And yet.

If Jesse refused to talk with Fareeha, who could be considered almost a sister for him, and refused to talk with Genji when pressed, or with any of the others, Zenyatta would have no luck pressing him too hard, nor did he wish to.

_Yet_ , he could still try to do something.

The idea blossomed in Zenyatta’s mind one evening as he happened upon Jesse in the corridors of the base, optical receptors following him as he fidgeted, one hand almost coming to touch his hat before falling limp again.

Maybe there was nothing he could do so that Jesse could have that particular hat, and no other hat could ever do, not when Jesse clearly felt its loss so acutely.

There was still another option, perhaps.

“Jesse.”

With a small, startled sound, Jesse turned around.

As it always seemed to happen whenever he saw Zenyatta, Jesse’s expression softened toa content grin that made Zenyatta’s fans spin just a little faster in answer.

He was glad his appearance could get this reaction from Jesse –really, from _any_ of the others.

“Didn’t see ya there Zenyatta! Weren’t you on a mission?”

“I returned earlier, as Lucio and Hana did not need me –we managed to wrap everything rather well, so they offered to stay behind to finish things so I could return to the Base.”

He did not mention that he’d been caught on his own with a few of the operatives they’d been sent to protect, and had ended up depleting most of his battery and energy levels to keep them alive until Hana and Lucio had arrived to help. Zenyatta would go through a longer sleep cycle to make sure he was properly rested, but for now…

It was not weird for him to wish to cheer Jesse up. It was simply due to the hat’s situation, though Zenyatta could not lie to himself and say he did not enjoy spending time with him regardless.

“Ah, you do look tired,” Jesse mentioned casually, almost sheepish, and his sharp eyes took Zenyatta by surprise again.

“Do I?” before he could stop himself, Zenyatta brought one hand to his facial plate, though he knew that nothing there could have betrayed his fatigue.

His movement made Jesse laugh, the sound rich and fond, burning its way through Zenyatta’s auricular receptors like fine alcohol. “Forgive me, I tend to notice… see, you’re floating a little lower than usual, and you don’t have your orbs with you, and…” sounding a little hesitant, Jesse scratched his chin. “I dunno, I guess I just… get that feeling from you.”

“Ah.” Somehow, the idea that Jesse could read him so closely made Zenyatta’s core flutter. He hadn’t expected Jesse to notice so many things in his behaviour –it did speak of his uncanny ability to know everything around the base, that was for sure. “No, you’re right. It was… an intense mission. I do plan on resting tonight.”

“Good, good. I know I wouldn’t like to see you forget to sleep or something,” still a little awkward, though Zenyatta could not understand why, Jesse shuffled around.

“Please do not worry for me, I do take care of myself.” Zenyatta hesitated, almost wanting to address Jesse’s own problem, then relented. “I’m grateful for your care, however. I would easily consider us friends, so to know you care enough to worry brings me joy.”

Zenyatta looked away, forehead array flickering for a moment in a smile, and missed Jesse’s sudden fluster, the way he fumbled with himself before grabbing one of his cigars with a little more force than intended.

“Ah. Yes, I… of course we’re friends. There’s nothing unlikable about you.”

“Why, thank you!” Zenyatta smiled once again, his forehead array blinking brightly, and twined his fingers together in front of him. “I think the same about you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told I’m a friendly guy.” Flashing Zenyatta a warm, cocky smile, Jesse’s hand rose to his hat, only to freeze before his fingers could touch the hem. He remained like that for a second, caught between finishing the motion or aborting it but Zenyatta looked away, pretending that everything was normal, though they both knew it was not.

“Well, I wanted to ask you something, Jesse. I do not have any specific plans for tonight, except resting, so I was wondering, would you mind watching a movie with me?” Zenyatta lowered both hands back to his lap, feeling a lick of discomfort as he wondered, for a split second, if Jesse would say no, then continued. “It is the new movie starring Thespion 4.0, and I’ve been told it is an old western movie, so I thought you would enjoy it.”

The discord building underneath Jesse’s casual appearance faltered, obvious surprise replacing it.

Whether he had expected Zenyatta to finally address the problem, or he was just surprised for the offer, Zenyatta did not know.

“Ah. Sure thing! I heard lots of good things about that movie. Would love to watch it with you!”

Relief flooding him, Zenyatta tilted his head forwards in agreement, his next words coming out of his synth easily. “I’m glad. It is always nicer to watch movies with company, and I do enjoy yours.”

“That I can agree with. Lead the way, Zen!”

***

His plan started by reviewing as much of OverWatch camera footage as possible.

Athena had been rather helpful once he’d explained what he wanted to do, and had quickly analysed through hours of footage to find the relevant parts for him –close-ups of Jesse’s hat from any angle, including the times he took it off for one reason or another.

If not for the fact that Zenyatta’s attention was focused on the hat, on mapping its size, texture, fabric and every tiny detail he could record in his own data banks, he might have felt uncomfortable, watching so much of Jesse’s time, even moments when he was not aware he was being recorded, caught while walking out of the base for a smoke, just for this simple task.

A few times, Zenyatta’s attention strayed from compiling information about the hat to simply stare at Jesse’s face, the quirk of his lips whenever he spoke to someone he liked, the ways his nose wrinkled whenever he smiled or laughed, the open expression that was at times so rare to witness.

There were times the camera caught him looking somewhere into the distance, and his eyes would grow soft, almost raw, and Zenyatta wondered what he saw, then –what was his focus in those moments, what had caught his attention, before he refocused with a small hum, zooming back on the details of the hat.

It did not actually take that long –Athena had been really helpful, cutting hours from his project by reviewing the footage first to only give him what he needed. A few days of spending whatever free time he had and he had all the information he needed, and afterwards, Zenyatta was in quite a good mood.

He spent the next few hours connected to internet’s mainframe, uploading the information he’d gathered about the hat, including a few snapshots of it, and started his research.

Zenyatta did not actually have much free time after that –missions kept piling up that needed his presence as well as that of the others, and he could only keep his research going before he powered down to rest at night, and whenever he could, he made sure to spend some time with Jesse, who appeared to appreciate his presence.

It was two more weeks before Zenyatta finally found what he was searching for, and three more days before he could approach Winston about leaving the base.

“Uh… sure. You did not have to ask, actually. You’re all free to leave whenever you need it.” Winston glanced up at Zenyatta, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger in a practiced motion.

He had been busy fussing with a pile of paperwork that appeared to cover every inch of any surface in sight in his office, and it had taken Zenyatta a few minutes to get his attention, and even after that, Zenyatta was not sure he was quite as attentive.

“I do not wish to become a hindrance, should you need my help on a mission while I’m away,” he replied, humming quietly as he hovered closer to Winston.

“Ah. Right! I mean, yes, that’s very sensible of you, thank you!” Winston glanced down at the papers surrounding him before putting down the one he was holding, very gently, on top of the nearest stack and turning to look at Zenyatta fully. “I’m still pretty new to this whole business, and there is more background work to do than I was expecting, but… uh. It’s not fair I keep every agent available all the time without allowing some free time for them to do… other things. You know?”

Zenyatta forehead array flickered in a small smile. “Yes, that is very sensible of you. I do not require to be gone for too long –a day or two will be sufficient for what I wish to do.”

“That is more than alright. I hope it’s nothing too troublesome or…” Winston looked like he did not wish to pry, and was split between making casual conversation and returning to his work, so Zenyatta raised one hand.

“Not at all. I wish to leave in order to find a gift for a friend.”

“Ah? Is it someone’s birthday? That is something I should remember, it would only be proper for a… a self-appointed commander to–”

“No, just something I wish to do for someone.”

“That is very nice of you, Zenyatta.”

Shaking his head a little, array dancing with mirth, lights burning brightly, Zenyatta hovered backwards, putting some space between himself and Winston as he prepared to leave. “I just want to lighten a burden some, as it is something I can do. I will take my leave now, thank you for your time, and… I hope you sort it all out, Winston. You are doing a good job.”

“I… sure do hope so, thank you.”

Fumbling a bit, awkward with the praise but obviously appreciating it, Winston returned his attention back to his paperwork as Zenyatta left his office, feeling considerably relieved after alerting Winston about his departure.

Genji was the next he sought out, not wanting to make him worry should he return to the base and not find him there, and after that, Zenyatta hesitated, ready to leave, before seeking out yet another person.

He found him in the practice range, though he was not doing any aim practice. Jesse was simply sitting down with his back to one of the immobile bots, rolling the barrel of his gun, humming under his breath.

Zenyatta hesitated, not wishing to disturb that carefree peace, though even from afar he could feel the licks of discord still present around Jesse even like this, then he advanced towards him.

As he did not walk, Zenyatta had no footsteps to betray his arrival, yet Jesse’s head twisted to look at him, expression softening into a pleased smile at his sight.

“Oi, Zen! What brings you here, needing some practice? I can help!”

“I will accept that offer for another day, Jesse. I…” Zenyatta hesitated, suddenly unsure as to why he’d have to alert Jesse of his own departure.

Despite his assurance that they were friends, they did not quite seek one another out, nor had any real reason to, and outside of missions, they’d only started spending some time together after their first solo-mission.

His desire to see Jesse was, in the end, just that, without further reason, just a selfish desire to seek him out and see him and that, perhaps was the root of Zenyatta’s problem, and why it was so important for him to dispel those clouds of discord from around him.

Yes, he would certainly attempt to ease anyone’s troubles as it was just part of Zenyatta’s attitude to do so, but… he did have a certain… _fondness_ for Jesse, that went a little deeper than just that.

His hesitance seemed to attract Jesse’s curiosity, because he stood up with a smooth movement and strolled towards him, stepping inches away from Zenyatta and tilting his head forwards.

“If you got a problem, I might not be the best you can find, but I can make it _my_ problem too,” Jesse wriggled his eyebrows, startling a laugh from Zenyatta’s synth.

“That might not be the best way to find a hypothetical solution, I fear.”

“Hmmm, maybe not, but getting a laugh out of you I think might be just the next best thing.”

Zenyatta’s synth spluttered, his fingers flexing in response to Jesse’s words, and he felt a wave of heat catch against his fans, making them spin louder.

Zenyatta had never been caught on the other side of Jesse’s flirting, no matter if it was simply friendly banter, and he found himself suddenly out of his depths, embarrassed when his synth refused to cooperate, no sound coming from it.

“I–” he cleared his synth and tried again. “I was looking for you,” was what he said, in lieu of addressing Jesse’s words, and not exactly what he meant to say either.

Jesse was obviously surprised, but there was a pleased tilt to his lips that made Zenyatta regret his words right away.

“It is… I mean…” he did not really have an explanation for seeking him out, except his own selfish reasons, and Zenyatta folded his hands together in front of him, attempting to appear calmer than he felt. “I will be leaving the base for a couple days, and… we have been spending some time together, recently. I did not wish to leave without warning you.”

Again, Zenyatta felt something stir in Jesse’s expression –something almost soft, and he was not sure if he could call that ‘hope’ or not, but it was not something Zenyatta knew how to read.

Hope was not quite a nice interpretation of that look, considering Zenyatta was leaving, and he’d thought Jesse had appreciated the time they had spent together.

Instead of assuming, Zenyatta chose to ignore the twinge that thought caused within his core.

“That is… nice of you, I appreciate that. I thought we could watch another movie together, but maybe… I dunno,” Jesse scratched his chin, looking down before glancing up at Zenyatta’s optical receptors, “when you come back, then?”

“That would be nice,” attempting to ignore also the wave of warmth he felt inside his circuits, Zenyatta hummed, his mood betrayed by the way the mala around his neck chimed and sung as they circled him, catching Jesse’s eye and making his smile widen. “I always enjoy the time we spend together.”

“I do, as well. You’re quite a good company.”

“Well then, I will have something pleasant to look forwards to after my return. Thank you, Jesse.”

“See you in a few days then, Zen. I’m glad you came to find me.”

As Zenyatta left, making himself not look back, just in case, he couldn’t help but feel lighter than before, a small flicker of giddiness curling its way through his circuits, making his mala dance happily around him as he hovered away.

Jesse watched him go, and if Zenyatta had looked back then, he would have seen the discord cloud around him lessen considerably.

***

The place Zenyatta had hunted down was a small, antique shop in the middle of Albuquerque, in New Mexico.

It was almost a forgettable building, with a fast food chain on one side and a clothing shop on the other, and while the walls were a little chipped, and the door creaked weirdly when he pushed it open, the inside was welcoming and well lit.

After one quick look, Zenyatta shuffled and stretched his legs, easily moving into a standing position, feet falling on the ground with a soft sound.

As he stepped inside, Zenyatta’s sensors detected a pungent smell of oleander mixed with something old and sweet, like honey, perhaps a little too strong, but not at all unpleasant, and as his optical receptors calibrated to the change in light, he looked around, observing his surroundings.

The place, as the online brochure had showed, was packed full of things.

There were objects belonging to the early 2000s, and then even older, a few vases that looked like mid-1800s and some pretty colourful paintings that probably dated somewhere in the 1900s. There seemed to be no particular order within the shop, just piles of things as far as the eye could see, and the shop did appear to be bigger on the inside, longer than it was large, with numerous rooms Zenyatta noticed far in the back.

For a moment, Zenyatta appreciated the sight and the smells, tilting his head to look at this or that object.

An old stuffed bird that smelled stale, a bedside table with a few scratches on its surface covered with a sheen of dust, an old Walkman with a bowl filled with tapes, a small brown shaker and a plasma screen side by side, followed by a box of dusty peluches and dolls and then a bowling set and a chess board…

Zenyatta felt strangely at home, amidst such old, interesting things.

“Is there anything I can do?”

He was startled out of his curious snooping by a raspy, deep voice coming from behind him.

He turned around, only to end facing a middle-aged man dressed with a tweed suit and a pair of work gloves. Despite Zenyatta’s height, the man was even taller, almost towering on him, which was a feat for itself.

“Greetings. I sent you a mail the other day… my name is Zenyatta, and I was interested in one of your hats.”

“Oh, that one, Mr Zenyatta!” the man’s expression cleared, frown melting into a fond smile. “Your mail mentioned your intention to pursue it as a gift.”

“Indeed.” Zenyatta folded his arms in front of him. “A friend of mine had this same hat but recently lost it, and has been distraught ever since. I just wish to ease his mood back to what it was before.”

“That is a wonderful thought, especially for such a particular gift.”

Zenyatta hummed in reply, and remained standing as the man moved to the back of the shop, disappearing behind a tall antique armoire, where he could hear him shuffle and push things to the side, only to reappear minutes later holding something in his hands.

Zenyatta felt his core whirr faster and took a step forwards, body shifting to look at the hat the man was now offering to him for a closer inspection.

“This is the only remaining hat from that specific batch, at least for the colour you were looking for. A comfortable kind of hat, I’d say, the manufacturer used durable materials… see here?” the shop owner rubbed one finger along the line of the familiar hat, showing the tiny, even stitches. “It requires almost no care except for handwashing it every now and then, and the inside is soft and warm, but transpires easily in warmer climates, so the hair doesn’t suffer much from wearing it for extended periods of time. There’s…” he turned the hat around to show Zenyatta the buckle and the clasps on the fabric tied around its shape, familiar to him, though they were missing the bullets that Jesse had placed there himself for decoration. “Here, see? There’s some light discoloration underneath the fabric, but it’s almost unnoticeable, though I’m willing to lower the price a bit for that, especially considering this is meant as a gift.”

“That would be appreciable, thank you.”

Zenyatta reached out for the hat, hands delicate in holding it, as if afraid it would disappear before he could touch it, though the shop keeper had just mentioned the hat’s sturdiness.

It was… it was identical to Jesse’s hat.

Of course, this was just yet another copy, a placeholder for the hat he’d lost, but… at least, it was the same hat.

It belonged to the same starting batch, as Zenyatta had made sure when he had done his researches online, same fabric, same brand and original factory of production, same colour, same year. Same everything.

The only thing this hat lacked was its history with Jesse, but Zenyatta hoped that despite that, it could ease somehow the pain of losing his own hat.

It was as close as possible to the original, down to the same specifics, size, state of wear…

Everything.

More than that, Zenyatta could not do. There was nothing more anyone could do, either.

He hoped it would be enough.

“I hope he will be able to accept this gift as a replacement,” he murmured to himself, synth soft, glitching slightly.

The man regarded him for a moment, a small smile on his wrinkled face, eyes crinkling in a weirdly fond fashion. “The intent behind the gift is sometimes all that matters, Mr Zenyatta. You must have spent quite some time searching for this exact hat, down to the same factory. I feel this care is enough to show your friend what you meant.”

“I…” Zenyatta fumbled with the hat, surprised at the man’s words –did he just mean… but no, Zenyatta could not be that obvious, after all he did not even have an expression that could betray his feelings, so… “Thank you,” he chose to say instead, tilting his face plate to keep his optical receptors on the hat.

It was just a gift, to make sure Jesse could find his footing again. It was not meant to be a token of anything except Zenyatta’s friendship.

Yet, his core fluttered, just a bit, and Zenyatta knew better than to deny his own feelings, even if they were not what had prompted him to start looking.

***

Zenyatta was on his way to the London train station when Winston contacted him, a slight static sound before he was connected with the OverWatch base through Athena’s mainframe.

Zenyatta stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, stepping to the side to answer. “Is there a problem?”

“Uhh… Zenyatta? It’s Winston here. I know you should be on your way back, but you might have to postpone your return.”

“Most certainly. What happened?”

“Nothing too dangerous, don’t worry. It’s…” a muted shuffling sound, then Athena sent over a few images directly from the base’s main computers, which Zenyatta viewed through his internal optical processors. “We got a warning that there was a planned march for Omnic rights in London–” as Winston continued to debrief him, information flashed past Zenyatta’s vision, with the exact location for the march and who would be present. “Jesse and Lena decided to go, but there was an unplanned protest by some anti-omnic group, and things might be escalating. We are not in any capacity allowed to interfere as… OverWatch, but…”

“… but Jesse and Lena will be there and try to keep things from escalating, and they might need a backup, and I happen to be nearby. I do not mind joining them.”

“Alright, thank you!” Winston sounded relieved, though Zenyatta doubted he expected him to refuse. “I wouldn’t ask if I I believed there will be problems, really, I just…”

“… worry. I understand.” Zenyatta’s forehead array flickered in a small smile. “I’m almost at the train station, and it should take me no longer than ten minutes from there.”

“Thank you! And… you know. Uh. Stay safe, Zenyatta.”

The conversation ended, and Zenyatta moved quickly down the street, wanting to get to the train station quickly to join Jesse and Lena as soon as possible.

He wasn’t actually tired –the flight from Albuquerque to London had been quick and he’d spent it all on a sleep cycle, his internal clock regulating itself so he would not suffer from jetlag– so he was ready for anything that could happen.

Much to his amusement, though, when he arrived to where the march was happening Jesse and Lena had already resolved the situation on their own. The protesters were herded away from the marching crowd by a small group of policemen, and Zenyatta found Lena happily surrounded by no less than ten kids, all of which knew her and wished to have her signature and take pics with her.

She barely glanced his way, too busy catering to the kids, her happy smile so bright and warm it made Zenyatta’s orbs chime around his neck, but offered him a small wave and then pointed to the left, so he went that way, finding Jesse talking with one of the guards in charge of the march.

Zenyatta remained on the side, waiting for him to finish talking, and allowed his attention to shift from him to the march.

There were plenty of omnics of different build and size and model, all banded together with banners and colourful clothes and fabric.

There were also many humans, just as colourful and varied as the omnics were, and the sight, more than anything, filled Zenyatta with pride and hope.

It was this kind of message that he wished could be spread far and wide, and to see it happening in London, where many of his kind still lived in fear in the undergrounds, who still had so much trouble just existing for being omnics…

Among the crowd, Zenyatta also recognized the insignia of the Shambali. The sight made his core flutter, something like melancholia travelling through his circuits like a bittersweet caress.

Sometimes, he still…

“Zen! Fancy seeing you here!”

Jesse’s voice startled him and he turned around, taking his optical receptors away from the Shambali symbol, though he saw Jesse’s eyes flicker in that direction, and knew he’d noticed what had caught his attention.

“Winston called me, he was worried about the situation escalating, but I see it has been resolved without any need for my aid.” Zenyatta looked past Jesse to stare at the retreating backs of the last few protesters, escorted away from the area, and his servos fully relaxed.

He had not anticipated he would be worried as well, but London so far had only seen tragedies happening.

“Ah, yeah, there was some troublemaker thinking he could play superior with a bunch of people here, but he got reminded why nobody likes a bully,” Jesse smirked, tapping his belt with a self-satisfied expression. “Got that fixed faster than you can say ‘huckleberry’.”

That startled a small laugh from Zenyatta, and Jesse answered with a wide grin.

“Glad to see you back in one piece, though. Was your trip alright?” Jesse slid easily at Zenyatta’s side, making him turn to look at him and away from the march, and Zenyatta remembered with a small chirp that he still carried his hat carefully stored away in the bag he was carrying with him.

“I did, thank you. In fact… I have something here for you, if you’ll allow me.” feeling a small coil of uneasiness now that he was about to see if his gift would be well received, Zenyatta shuffled a few inches away from Jesse and retrieved the box with the hat from his bag.

Jesse frowned, glancing down at the box in askance before looking up at Zenyatta’s face, as if seeking some sort of answer from it.

“Here, I hope…” Zenyatta made a small sound, and relinquished the package.

Jesse observed it again, looking awkward, wrong footed and surprised. “You… got me a gift? What is it, steaks?” he chuckled to himself at his own absurd idea, then unlatched the seals of the box and popped it open. Zenyatta fought the urge to move closer, and simply waited.

At once, all expression on Jesse’s face was wiped clean, replaced with a slack, emotionless visage. Zenyatta observed him, optical receptors whirring softly and fans spinning just a little bit faster, as he carefully took out the hat from the box, holding it in one hand like something fragile or dangerous.

Jesse’s fingers trembled as he turned the hat around, caressing the hem of the fabric, the soft folds on the inside, then the buckle on the front.

Zenyatta wished to explain –tell Jesse about the discord he’d felt surrounding him since the day he’d lost his hat. Tell him that he had wanted to wipe that away, that Jesse had not looked alright… had not looked _whole_ … since he’d lost his hat.

He wanted to tell him that he’d simply wished to find a way to ease the pain, that he did not know, nor could he begin to understand, the relationship Jesse had with his old hat, and that it did not matter, nor did he wish to know, especially if it was something precious and important to him, but that he could not allow Jesse to feel so much hurt, to feel incomplete and always fumbling, missing the familiar motions and the ease he’d showed before.

He wanted to tell Jesse that he knew this hat would be no magic fix, but that it was simply a way to soothe some of the pain away, and that at least it would be better than some cheap replica that kept making Jesse double-guess himself.

Zenyatta wanted, most of all, to tell Jesse that he wished for him to be happy again, yet the words did not want to come out.

His synth felt constricted, almost as if cluttered with dust or something else, and Zenyatta remained quiet as Jesse looked back up at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed a few times.

Then, with a smooth gesture, Jesse removed the hat he was wearing –the cheap placeholder, wrong size, wrong fabric, wrong shade, _wrong hat_ – and let it fall down on the ground without care before gently placing Zenyatta’s hat over his hair.

It fit, just like the old one had.

Zenyatta felt, more than anything, the cloud of discord around Jesse fade, just a bit.

“I…” Jesse cleared his throat, his voice coming out almost raspy, a shaky quality that betrayed his emotions where his face did not. “Zenyatta,” he tried again, and this time his voice did not shake. “I would very much like to kiss you now. May… may I?”

That startled Zenyatta enough that he stumbled a little, dipping a few inches in his hovering, the mala around his neck almost falling away from him due to his shock. “I… what?”

“I wish to kiss you.” Jesse moved closer –one step, then another.

He invaded Zenyatta’s space slowly, as if afraid he would run, or reject him, and then reached out to take one of his hands in his own, thumb caressing his metallic fingers. Zenyatta stuttered, his synth vibrating and letting out a soft, distracted chirp.

“That… this gift. You could not know what…” Jesse hesitated, shook his head. “You had no idea what that hat meant for me, and yet… you… you went off to get it for me, did you?”

At Zenyatta’s small nod, Jesse covered his mouth with his free hand, a chuckle muffled by his fingers. He was shaking again, and yet the grip on Zenyatta’s hand was steady.

“I did not wish to see you this unhappy. Your smile… ah. I simply wished to see you smile reach your eyes again, Jesse. I…”

Jesse tugged Zenyatta’s hand to his face, nuzzled into it and then paused, his lips inches away from Zenyatta’s palm, to ask again “Zenyatta. May I?”

For a moment, time stretched onwards, still yet slipping away from Zenyatta’s grasp, and he felt destabilized, on the edge of something, and ready to slip. He looked into Jesse’s face, met his eyes and found the same soft, fond look Jesse had reserved for some unnamed something back in the footage he’d revisited earlier that week.

With a startled jolt, Zenyatta realised Jesse was looking at _him_ like that. That he was…

“Y-yes, Jesse.” He found himself answering, his synth so quiet he could barely hear himself talk. “I would love that,” he added, an even quieter whisper, and Jesse answered instantly.

He pressed Zenyatta’s palm to his lips, and Zenyatta’s sensors registered warmth, and heat, and the flare flickered through his circuits and up to his back like an electric charge, leaving him vibrating and tingling as Jesse kissed his palm again then nudged Zenyatta closer.

Slowly, Jesse reached out with his other hand, fingers curling around the back of Zenyatta’s head, and tugged him closer, then closer still, so slowly, as if waiting for Zenyatta to dictate the pace, and when Zenyatta did not protest, lost as he was in the phantom sensation of the kiss upon his palm, Jesse hummed in satisfaction and reached out for the last inches separating them, pressing his lips against the seam of Zenyatta’s mouth piece.

The sensors lining underneath his face plate flared up, detecting warm lips pressed against its surface, and Zenyatta’s synth crackled with a gasp as he felt Jesse’s arm curl around his back, the one cradling his head keeping him close, fingers caressing distractingly down the wires on the back of his neck.

Not knowing what to do with his own arms, Zenyatta buried his hands into Jesse’s serape, holding onto the rough fabric as his sensors went high-wire with data input.

Jesse’s lips were cracked and dry, but they were warm, and the idea that he was kissing him –holding him close and kissing him– was enough to make Zenyatta’s circuits burst with energy, his fans spinning so fast they turned loud.

Jesse pulled back –lips twitching in a grin when Zenyatta made a small sound of protest, attempted to follow him– to wet his lips, then wasted no time to dive back in again.

He pressed small, lingering kisses over the seam of Zenyatta’s mouth piece, then to the side, mapping the shiny surface of his face plate, his prosthetic hand absently caressing the base of his spine, a distracting touch barely reaching one of his sensors.

Zenyatta tilted his head forwards, seeking more of Jesse’s kiss, and then flickered forwards a lick of omnic energy, letting it caress the edge of Jesse’s lips in answer, pleased when Jesse made a small, wondering sound and his breath hitched.

“Oi, Jesse! Did you see Zeny– _oh_.”

Zenyatta’s shoulders jolted in shock at the familiar, loud voice of Lena coming from somewhere on the side, and made to pull back, but Jesse, without even pausing in his kissing, slid his hand up from the back of Zenyatta’s neck and to the top of his head, pulling off his hat and moving it to the side, effectively hiding his and Zenyatta’s faces from Lena’s eyes.

Jesse was still close, his lips brushing against the seam of Zenyatta’s mouth piece as he spoke, his voice barely louder than a whisper, rough and rumbling, “Not ready to stop yet, Zen.”

“O–oh.” Zenyatta shivered, just a bit, but did not protest when Jesse pressed in, a little harder, demanding, and he answered by kissing him back, omnic energy flaring up between them like static charge.

“Oh well. Hmm… I will… ah! Would you look at that? There’s more kids down there who will surely like a signature from the great Tracer! I’ll just… yeah, call me when you’re… done, yeah? Yeah!” Lena’s voice, awkward but giggly, barely registered in Zenyatta’s mind, too focused on the feeling of Jesse’s kisses to be able to concentrate on anything else.

It took them what felt like forever to finally separate, and even then, Zenyatta’s hands remained buried in Jesse’s serape, clutching at it like a lifeline as his circuits recalibrated, mind fuzzy.

Jesse kept him close, thumb still idly caressing a node on the back of his head, but slid the hat back on his head, nuzzling Zenyatta’s neck affectionately.

“I hope that sufficed as a starting thank you, Zen,” he murmured, but the pleased smile was gone from his lips, replaced with a serious, earnest look. “I was… not expectin’ it.”

Zenyatta moved away enough that he could press their foreheads together, his array powered down so it would not blind Jesse from this close, and chuckled, soft and warm and so fond.

“You did not expect someone to care? Many noticed your mood, I was just lucky enough to know what caused it to fall, and I felt I had to do my best to help in the only way I knew how.”

“And I’m… shit, Zen, you got no idea how much that…” Jesse halted himself, shook his head, and moved back a little, lips tilted upwards in a smile. “Not a subject for today, though. Not sure about you, but I’m mighty tired, we should head back to the base.”

“There is no need for you to avoid talking about what happened, if you wish to share, but I do not wish to push you into it. Yet, if you want to, I’ll be available anytime, you know that.” Zenyatta lifted one of his hands to caress the curve of Jesse’s face, fingers brushing against his beard, and Jesse nuzzled into it.

For a split second, he looked tense, but the tension drained away from him a moment later, and his shoulders dropped a little. “I know. You’re one hell of a stubborn omnic, but I know for sure you’d be the one I’d tell.”

It was not a promise, but Zenyatta understood the meaning, and felt his core flutter. “That honours me.”

“I… this…” Jesse scratched his cheek, a flicker of uneasiness in his face, “I know we had this chat about… flirting an’ everything, a while ago, but _this…_ isn’t _that_. I hope you know.”

Zenyatta did remember –Jesse’s ability to attract attention, his easy smiles, his flirting, how he was good at getting what he wanted, never a wrong word, leaving behind many who did not realise his actions...

Zenyatta floated lower, enough that he could touch on the ground with his feet and stand up. He was taller than Jesse like this, though his frame was still lither, lacking Jesse’s muscles, his lean body with the lightest amount of chub, all polished metal and visible circuits.

Jesse looked up, startled at how tall Zenyatta looked when standing –it was rare to see him like this, rarer still to be close enough to notice– and Zenyatta used this moment to lean down, both hands gently cupping Jesse’s face as he directed him again to press his forehead against his own.

He hummed, softly, his synth singing, and the mala that had been circling around them until then in a low orbit rose and chimed together, singing together with him. “I would say I am observant enough to understand that, but I have failed to notice your interest until now, so perhaps we could make sure we are both on the same page and talk once we are back at the base, if you’d like. I… do not wish to assume how deep your interest for me runs, but I would be pleased if it meant we could…”

“Date? Yeah, yes, I… I’d like that. Wait, no, scratch that –I’d _love_ to take you out on a date. Any time.” Sounding almost out of breath though they were not kissing, Jesse wrapped both hands around Zenyatta’s neck, insistently tugging him down. “You could bet some pretty coin on how deep my _interest_ runs, Zen. Ain’t no lie.”

“Hmmm,” Zenyatta’s synch made a pleased sound, even as he felt his core heat up. “I’m glad. I hope you know it is quite mutual.”

Jesse’s smile was bright and _happy_ , and Zenyatta felt it like a wave of warmth washing through his circuits like sun, heating them up from inside.

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, really.”

Somewhere on the side there was a sudden flash of light. Zenyatta looked to the side, surprised to realise that they’d attracted some attention.

As they were standing in a crowded plaza in the middle of a pro-omnic manifestation, Lena was not the only one who had noticed what was going on; in fact, many among the people at the march were looking at them, pointing and staring and murmuring.

Some of them had their phones out and pointed their way, though a few, upon realising Zenyatta had taken notice of the attention, hastily shoved them away, having the decency to look guilty.

“I… do think we have garnered some attention,” Zenyatta’s forehead array blinked once, unsure what to think about that development, nor why it would be interesting… except, he realised after a moment, he’d just kissed a human at a pro-omnic rally.

In London.

Of course.

As he looked around, still trapped in Jesse’s loose hold, Zenyatta could see it –the hope, frail and hesitant, reflected in the faces of many of the humans who were looking at him and Jesse… and they were not the only ones, either.

Zenyatta could feel the same emotion from the omnics present there as well, even if their visage did not convey it as well as a human’s would, it was still clear to him as he could feel it, the sensation so strong to his senses.

They were looking at him and Jesse, and what they had, as something to look forwards to –acceptance, love. It wouldn’t matter if it was romantic or not, but they all wished for this in equal measure, and this was why they were all there, and…

Jesse looked lost for a second, eyes travelling from one side of the crowd to the other, then back to Zenyatta, and then slowly his smile returned, with a different edge to it that Zenyatta interpreted as ‘wicked’.

“Yeah, I don’t think they mind if we do that again, actually.” Jesse slid his arm around Zenyatta’s waist, tugging him closer to his body, and Zenyatta allowed him, their shoulders bumping together. “Would be another good thing that has happened at the march, isn’t that right?”

Zenyatta felt the hand on his back rub at one of his sensors, and it sent a shiver up his back, the sudden data flare a pleasant sensation. “Would it?”

Jesse leaned closer. “You tell me, Zen. Do _you_ mind?”

The giggle that left his synth was quiet at first, but it turned louder as Zenyatta was unable to stop himself. The giddiness he’d felt as Jesse had kissed him turned to mirth, happiness bubbling through his core, and he leaned down, enough that their faces were close, almost touching.

Jesse’s breathing was hot against his face plate, his lips open, inviting.

“I most certainly do not,” he murmured.

“Well then. They’re in for a repeat.”

And just like that, standing in front of so many people who were now looking at them, cameras out and recording, Jesse twisted Zenyatta in his grasp and dipped him, unmindful of the difference in height, and followed him down for yet another kiss.

Around them, Zenyatta could barely hear the crowd hollering and whistling, the sound of phones snapping pictures nothing but a forgettable background noise.

He laughed, holding onto Jesse’s shoulders like a lifeline so he would not fall, and kissed him back.

 

 

 

 


End file.
